Shadows, screams, and pain. Those were the lasts things the person Fyu saved from a worker of the Murder Agence saw, heard and felt.

Fyu was sitting at his desk, in a wooden house in the forest. He was writing something, while glancing at the unconscious person laying in the bed. He kept writing everything he knew about the Agence on the piece of paper, his black hair falling over his orange eyes. The smoke from his cigarette was moving just like a dance. "They better not be dead." He whispered to himself.